


The Incident

by MxTicketyBoo



Series: Space Dad and the Kid [1]
Category: The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Canon Compliant, Canon-Typical Violence, Crack Treated Seriously, Cute, Father-Son Relationship, Fluff, Fluff and Humor, Gen, ManDadlorian, Mando wearing Baby Yoda in a sling, POV Din Djarin, Parent-Child Relationship, Post-Season/Series 01, Space Dad Mandalorian, chicken nuggets, parenting hijinks, post episode 8, silliness
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-28
Updated: 2020-01-28
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:06:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,836
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22455430
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MxTicketyBoo/pseuds/MxTicketyBoo
Summary: As they travel together trying to find the child's people, the Mandalorian makes a quick stop for fuel and supplies. He decides to buy the kid chicken nuggets for dinner. Shouldn't be a problem, right? Things do not go according to plan.AKA, Mando gets into a gunfight when someone tries to steal his son's chicky nuggies.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), The Mandalorian & The Child (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Space Dad and the Kid [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1621366
Comments: 26
Kudos: 258





	The Incident

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first ever Star Wars fic. It all started when I posed a question to my Twitter followers: “What if I wrote a fic about Mando buying Baby Yoda chicky nuggies from the Star Wars equivalent of a McDonald's? That’s it. That’s the plot.” Of course, a few of my followers enabled me, and well, here we are. XD 
> 
> I love the ManDadlorian and his little green baby with my whole heart. This started off as something just for a bit of silly fun and led to me Googling whether or not chickens exist in the SW universe (they do, at least according to SW Battlefront II, so I rolled with it!), but I hope I did this awesome duo justice here too. What I know of SW canon is mainly limited to the movies, The Mandalorian, and what I’ve absorbed over time via YouTube videos and Wookieepedia. Please forgive any errors, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> Thank you to Terry and dustofwarfare for the quick beta read! <3

As a Mandalorian, Din Djarin had found himself in dire straits more times than he could count. Even for one such as himself, rumored to be the best in this parsec or any other, bounty hunting was still a dangerous proposition. Add in being on the run with an adorable green baby of unknown origin but with an apparent target on his back despite—or perhaps because of—the mystery, and well… Din had found himself dodging blaster bolts left, right, up, down, and on especially bad nights, in his dreams too.

All that he could withstand. Danger came along with his calling and the Creed. As his Armorer had stated so succinctly, walking the Way of the Mandalore meant existing as both hunter and prey. Sometimes you met your match, and if you were lucky, you got to walk away, albeit with a few more bruises or fractured bones than usual. Sometimes you met your better, and if you were _really_ lucky, you walked away from that altercation too—by the skin of your teeth, or by the shine of your beskar.

But this parenting thing? Nothing in his training had quite prepared Din Djarin for the responsibility of raising what amounted to a human toddler. He was accustomed to foundlings, as all Mandalorians were, and reserved a portion of every bounty to sponsor those that had been taken in by his Tribe, but he’d never been directly responsible for a child before. And to do so without the help of his people? Without any support at all? And _this_ particular child, with his astonishing, unfathomable powers?

To say Din was unprepared was putting it mildly.

But they were getting by. One day at a time. One planet at a time. Until the unmitigated disaster Din would later mentally label “The Chicken Nugget Incident.”

If it sounded absurd, it was. But not long ago, Din had nearly lost his life fighting a mudhorn to retrieve an egg for the thieving Jawas that had stripped his ship while he was hunting down a fifty-year-old mark that turned out to be a baby, so he’d grown used to his life taking a turn toward absurdity as of late.

Everything started on a planet just a few steps above a backwater skug hole. Compared to Sorgan and its tiny villages and complete lack of significant industry, this planet’s main city center was a veritable metropolis. Under normal circumstances, if he were trying to lay low, it was a place he would avoid. Too many eyes and ears, and no matter where he went, as a rarely seen Mandalorian with an ever-growing reputation, Din got noticed. However, this time around, it couldn’t be helped. When food was scarce, your kid was cranky and in need of entertainment, and your ship was nearly out of fuel, needs must.

He’d leave the child in the _Razor Crest_ , if the kid could be trusted not to wander off. He’d let the kid walk along beside him if he could trust anyone else, but the tranquil forests on Sorgan were one thing, these bustling streets were another matter entirely—especially since Din had gotten confirmation of Moff Gideon’s continued existence in his last transmission from Cara, who’d heard it from a scrap dealer who’d heard it from one of the Jawas on Nevarro.

Who knew what ways Gideon had of locating the child? Din hadn’t made it to adulthood without a healthy degree of paranoia, and he couldn’t rule out the possibility that a tracker or hunter or three might already be hot on his heels.

In the end, he knew he needed to keep the baby close, so he fashioned a sling of sorts and slipped his little green charge inside. The baby cooed at him, big ears perked inquisitively as his tiny clawed hands inspected Din’s beskar chest plate.

By now, the kid’s slight weight was both comforting and familiar. He liked to be held, and truth be told, Din didn’t mind doing the holding. In fact, he kind of enjoyed the contact. Bounty hunting was, by nature, a solitary profession. Din had spent most of his time alone since he’d reached the age of majority and began working to help support his Tribe. Teaming up with others usually led to complications, and complications were one thing Din preferred to avoid. Still… there was something to be said for company, for a pair of huge brown eyes lighting up and the sound of delighted giggles when you walked into a room.

Most of the time, when Din entered a room, excitement was the absolute last reaction he got from anyone—except maybe the contractors doling out gigs. His presence meant people either had to run for the hills or resign themselves to less lucrative assignments. As a lauded Guild member, Din laid rightful claim to the highest bounties, and men like Greef Karga were more than happy to hand over pucks for those sorts of jobs to a hunter of proven skill. Din had grown accustomed to having first pick of any bounty he wanted, but until he reunited the child with his own kind and saw him properly settled, his priorities had changed.

After refueling the _Razor Crest_ and hiring someone to check on the questionable noises coming from one of the engines, Din’s first order of business was getting the baby fed.

The most popular eatery on the main strip appeared to be a place called Nebula Nosh. Bright, bold colors, noisy, lots of foot traffic, including many small children running circles around their tired-looking parents. Of course it would be the place to snag the kid’s attention. He cooed, mostly hidden by the sling and the drape of Din’s cloak, and waved his hand excitedly toward the red-and-yellow signage.

Din sighed but went in that direction anyway. He vaguely recognized the branding from a few other planets he’d visited in this galaxy. A galactic chain, then, and if he remembered the ads accurately, they boasted large meals for low prices. Exactly what he needed with their meager credits dwindling. He still had to pick up supplies for their ongoing journey, too. Quick and cheap was the order of the day.

A few people side-eyed him warily when Din stepped into the lobby, but mostly he went ignored. These customers were concerned with getting in, getting their food, and getting back on their way, not, for once, about the dusty Mandalorian in their midst.

Din joined the queue, tossing a quick glance over his shoulder when he felt a large presence loom behind him. The male was horned with deep green skin and stood a full head taller and a good deal broader than Din. His wickedly sharp horns and grim-faced appearance lent him a faint air of menace, but he had a youngling with pink skin and long purple-brown hair clinging to one of his hands, babbling excitedly in the way that children often did. Just another father getting a meal for his kid, then. No threat that Din could see, although the male narrowed his eyes and grunted at Din for looking.

Din turned back toward the counter when the cashier yelled “Next!”

“What can I get you?” the human asked as Din approached and eyed the menu through his visor.

“I’ll take… a ’Lil Stargazers meal.”

“Chicken nuggets or bantha burger?”

Din peered down at the kid, who just made an eager sound and stared up at him with gleaming eyes. He’d clearly scented the promise of food, and since he swallowed whole frogs as a snack, he probably wouldn’t be very particular. Right.

“The nuggets.”

The human pushed a few buttons on the screen in front of her. “Chocolate milk or juice?”

“Chocolate milk.”

“What kind of toy? Humanoid or object?”

“Um.” Din hesitated, having no idea what she was talking about. “Object?”

The cashier raised a dark brow at the question in his tone, but hit another button. “Anything else?”

“A bantha burger.”

The girl rattled off his total and Din paid and shuffled over to the side so the next customer could step up to the counter. Only moments later, another employee placed a paper sack in front of him. “You got lucky, sir. Our shipment’s running late. That’s the last of the chicken nuggets.”

“Thank you.”

As he walked away, Din heard a high-pitched wail of disappointment. “No more chicken nuggets?” the male who’d been standing behind him growled.

“Sorry, sir, but—”

Din shook his head and pushed out the door, determined to find a quieter spot for the baby to eat before he replenished their supplies at the street market. The restaurant had been a bit too crowded for comfort, and it wasn’t as if he’d even attempt to eat his own meal until he was back on the ship. Cold or hot, it was sustenance, and he’d consumed plenty worse in his day.

He’d just found a cluster of trees that would allow them a small measure of privacy and settled the baby on top of a flat boulder with his pouch of milk when Din heard the crunch of a footstep behind him.

Din spun around, his senses going on high alert and his hand flying to the grip of his blaster pistol.

Behind him stood the green-skinned male from Nebula Nosh, although he’d left the youngling elsewhere. He tipped his chin down, narrow-eyed and intense, horns jutting threateningly. Din recognized that look, and for a second, he thought the male had been sent by Gideon after all, until—

“I’ll be taking those nuggets,” the male said.

Din blinked behind his visor. “You’ll what?”

“The nuggets. My daughter’s been asking for them all day, and those are the last of them.”

Din glanced over his shoulder to where the child had set down the pouch of chocolate milk and was digging into the box of golden nuggets with a happy little sound, completely oblivious to the mounting tension between Din and this stranger. There’d be no help from that quarter, which was fine. Din didn’t want the kid getting involved unless the situation got critical. He could handle this buffoon on his own.

“If you don’t mind, my kid is having his lunch,” Din told the stranger. “I’m sure you can find your daughter nuggets somewhere else.”

“Not _those_ nuggets. Nebula Nosh nuggets are her favorite.”

“Well, life’s full of disappointment,” Din said, because blunt was his default setting and he had no real finesse when it came to words.

The male snorted hard, growled, and charged at Din with murder in his eye.

A punch to Din’s breast plate sent him flying back into a tree. The impact rattled his head in his helmet with enough force Din was momentarily dazed, but he had no time to recover. He heard his child’s indignant squawk and realized this fully grown adult was in the process of stealing chicken nuggets from a literal baby.

Din pulled his blaster and aimed a couple shots near the male’s boots, intending first and foremost to frighten him off. While Din might be inordinately pissed someone would dare snatch food from his ward, he wasn’t in the practice of killing people over a few credits’ worth of greasy meat. The bolts hit the ground, spraying dirt, and the guy jumped back, crying out in alarm.

As seemed only fitting, given the ludicrousness of the situation, the carton flew from the stranger’s grasp and crashed to the ground. Nuggets scattered in multiple directions.

The male stared down at the spilled food, scowling, before emitting a roar and charging at Din once again. At the same time, he pulled a blaster from his side holster and opened fire.

Din rolled to avoid the shots, a part of him still unbelieving that he was now in the middle of an actual, galaxy forsaken gunfight over some chicken nuggets.

This was _not_ the Way.

But Din wasn’t about to back down from a fight, even if he hadn’t started it and found the entire situation ridiculous.

Din dodged behind a tree and fired a few shots, still mostly trying to scare and not actually injure his assailant. Near the boulder he could see the baby collecting chicken nuggets from the ground and gleefully popping them into his mouth.

“Spit those out!” Din yelled. “They’re covered in dirt!”

The baby ignored him, and really, Din didn’t know why he bothered because the kid would eat any slimy amphibian he could get his hands on given half a chance. What was a bit of dirt compared to pond muck?

“Now they’re ruined!” shouted the horned male. “Look what you’ve done!”

“Let’s talk about this,” Din said from behind his tree. A bit of bark exploded next to his head as a bolt struck the trunk. “I’m sure you’ve had a rough day, but if we—”

Gunfire was his only answer, and Din realized he needed to draw this away from the kid before he finished his meal and decided to try to use his hand magic on this guy. The last thing they needed was more attention or more rumors circling the galaxy about a baby with mystical powers.

Din dashed toward an alleyway, trusting the horned male would follow. Sure enough, boots thudded behind him as the guy made chase. Unfortunately, he didn’t stop shooting, and soon enough, the gunfire led to screams, chaos, and the complete destruction of two different fruit stalls and an entire table of handmade ceramics.

Din ducked into a narrower alley to a chorus of shouts and decided he was finished running. He couldn’t afford to drag this out—he had to get back to the kid and back to his ship. This needed to be over five minutes ago. Truly, it should’ve never started in the first place, but this was apparently Din’s life now.

When the male barreled around the corner, Din stepped into his path and caught him in the nose with a right hook. He staggered back, but didn’t go down until Din delivered a punch to his stomach and a swift kick to his left kneecap.

The male crashed to the ground, howling, and in a flash, Din was on him with the barrel of his blaster pressed to his temple.

“Are we done here?” Din asked. “If I walk away and you try to come after me again, I’ll end you. I’d rather not leave your child without a father, but no one gets a second try at me without consequences, understand?”

The male nodded soundlessly. Dark blood was leaking from his nostrils and over his tightly shut mouth.

Din moved off him with a sigh. He stopped at the mouth of the alley to look back at the stranger, who’d wisely stayed right where Din had put him.

Shaking his head, Din retraced his steps to the little copse of trees where he’d left the baby. The clearing was totally deserted, save for the brown paper sack with Din’s bantha burger and the empty carton of nuggets. Din’s breath seized. “Ad’ika,” he called in Mando’a as panic sent his heart into his throat. “Ad’ika!”

A muffled coo came from behind the boulder. Din raced around it to find the child sitting on the ground with a small box in his hands. It was some sort of puzzle, and the kid’s tiny clawed fingers weren’t quite dexterous enough to maneuver the rows into the proper configurations, but he seemed happy enough to try, giggling at the noises and blinking lights.

Din slumped down beside him, his knees gone weak. He rested a gloved palm on the child’s wrinkled forehead, sensory memory reminding him how soft that peachy fuzz felt against his bare skin. The kid was so small and delicate and reliant on Din for his every waking need. It was terrifying. Humbling, too.

“Seems like trouble follows us wherever we go,” Din told him quietly. “I don’t know what I’m doing, kid.” The child extended the little box to him with a questioning sound. Din took it and shoved it into his pocket. “Let’s play with that some more when we’re back on the ship, huh? I have a feeling they’re not going to want us shopping in the market today.”

The kid gurgled in what seemed like agreement. Din tucked him back into the sling and grabbed the dusty bag containing his food.

What a day. Looked like they’d have to replenish their supplies on another planet. At least this time around, he’d gotten the _Razor Crest_ refueled before the shooting started. There’d been a couple instances when they hadn’t been so lucky.

Din stroked the child’s small back through the sling. “I hope those nuggets were worth it, you little womp rat.”

The kid grinned up at him with tiny white teeth and let loose a burp to rival a Gamorrean’s.

Beneath his helmet, Din allowed himself a smile. “I’ll take that as a yes.”

**Author's Note:**

> Ahhh. I'm pretty nervous posting this. If you enjoyed it, kudos and comments would be most welcome. Thanks for reading!


End file.
